The trees seemed alive in Lyrinvale, their silver leaves quivering as if in conversation. Every sound—the creak of branches, the soft crunch of moss underfoot—felt amplified in the eerie stillness. Caspian stood on the lake's edge, his gaze never straying from the girl who called herself Ellara.
"Ellara," he said again, as if speaking her name might bind her to this moment. "Why are you here? What happened to you?"
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a long moment, she said nothing. Then she stood, rising from the lake's surface as though she weighed nothing at all. Water dripped from the hem of her tattered dress, but she was dry as she stepped onto the shore opposite him.
"I don't owe you answers," she said, her tone as sharp as the moonlight slicing through the trees.
Caspian raised his hands in a show of surrender. "Fair enough. But if you want me gone, you'll have to explain why I dreamed of you. Why this place called me here."
Ellara frowned, glancing at the lake as if it might hold the answers. "The lake doesn't call," she said quietly. "It traps. Whatever brought you here—it wasn't me."
"That doesn't explain why I've been seeing you in my sleep for weeks," Caspian countered, stepping closer.
Ellara took a step back, her shoulders stiffening. "You don't understand. If the forest let you in, it won't let you leave."
Caspian froze. "Let me in?"
She gestured to the woods surrounding them. "Lyrinvale chooses its visitors. If it allowed you to find the lake, it means you're part of something bigger than your dreams. Something you might not survive."
Her words chilled him, but Caspian forced himself to stay composed. "Then tell me what I'm dealing with. What's this 'something bigger'?"
Ellara hesitated, her gaze darting to the shadows in the trees. The wind stirred, carrying a faint whisper that prickled the hair on the back of Caspian's neck.
"You're persistent," she said finally, folding her arms. "But answers come with a price. Are you prepared to pay it?"
"Depends on the price."
She gave him a long, assessing look, as though weighing his worth. Then, with a sigh, she turned and began walking toward the trees. "Follow me."
Caspian hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the forest behind her. The path was faint, little more than a trail of soft moss weaving through the roots. The air grew cooler the deeper they went, and the whispers of the woods grew louder, as if the trees themselves were alive and curious.
"Is this place cursed?" Caspian asked, breaking the silence.
Ellara glanced over her shoulder. "It's not a curse. Not exactly. Lyrinvale is… old. Older than the kingdoms. Older than people. It doesn't follow the same rules as the rest of the world."
"That doesn't make it sound any less dangerous," Caspian said dryly.
"It isn't, for most," Ellara admitted. "But it protects its secrets. That's why it let you in. You must be tied to the forest somehow, even if you don't know it yet."
Caspian frowned. The idea unsettled him, but before he could ask more, Ellara stopped abruptly.
They had reached a small clearing where a tree larger than any he'd seen before towered above them. Its bark was pale and smooth, etched with strange runes that glowed faintly in the moonlight.
"This is the heart of the forest," Ellara said softly. "The lake is its mirror, but this… this is its source."
"What does it mean?" Caspian asked, his voice hushed.
Ellara turned to face him, her expression grave. "It means the forest isn't done with you yet. And if we don't figure out why, you may never leave."
The runes on the tree glowed brighter, as if responding to her words, and the wind carried another whisper—a single word that made Caspian's blood run cold.
"Caspian."
He stared at Ellara, his heart racing. "Did you hear that?"
Her face was pale, her emerald eyes wide with fear. "I did," she whispered. "The forest knows your name."
For the first time since he'd entered Lyrinvale, Caspian felt truly afraid.